


Slick

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt #5: oil.  The Impala needs an oil change, and she plays Dean like a harp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slick

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the characters originally so I could use them as a writing exercise, to see how close I could get the characterization. Then I was corrupted by porn. And kink. Here’s a side of kink. This is simply for practice, not publication or profit. I’m in the hole by about 30 grand, if you’d like to seize my debt as punishment. AU in that I refuse to admit the death of John Winchester.
> 
> Also, posted out of order - sorry!

Dean slams the door to the room behind him, disgusted with the rather loud argument ensuing between John and Sam. Yes, another argument, he thought to himself. They didn’t get as nasty as they used to, but they were still hella loud. This one was over some conflicting research, so Dean should have just stuck it out, but damn, they were giving him a headache.

He decides that it would be a good time to change the oil in the Impala. The research wasn’t anywhere near taking them out of town yet, and the car was parked in a grassy area outside the cabin instead of a concrete slab. He fishes the pan and the oil out of the trunk, slides comfortably underneath her with his toolbox and a flashlight. He’d check out a number of other things while he was at it – took forever for her oil to drain out, usually. Her hood was warm from the sunlight when he popped it open, and he bet the grass was warm too.

He was nestled underneath her, taking his own sweet time, and kinda daydreaming, because as usual, she checked out just fine. A little grease here and there, and man, she was such a sweet ride. They’d gone far together. Dean actually managed to doze off under there, wonder of wonders. Hey, if anyone could keep him safe, it would be his girl.

He woke from his nap with a cast iron rod, newly forged and just as hot, pistoning up against his zipper. That was one hell of a dream. He shifted uncomfortably. Well. On with the oil change, he supposed. He reached over to the top of his toolbox, then remembered that he’d dropped the nut into the oil pan. Hell. He didn’t really want to be crawling out from under here in this state, draining the pan and looking for the nut. He fished around in the oil for it, hoping the erection would stall. He wiped the nut off on his jeans, and his hand brushed over his zipper. He groaned. His legs and feet were warm from the sunlight, and the afternoon sun had heated things up under the car. The sounds from the house were quiet. Well, they’d gone back to their research, right?

He thumbed the worn button open and eased down his zipper, a sigh of relief escaping him as his cock leapt free of his boxers on its own. His hand closed around it, and he thumbed over the thick head, shuddering at the slick touch. Oil was oil, after all. Well, not really, said a small part of his brain. This was HER oil, oil that the Impala had run through her lines as she carried them from town to town, oil that heated up when his leadfoot came down on the back roads, oil that surged when she got them neatly away from a couple of close calls. This was the oil out of the thing in life he loved the best after his family. She was hard above his head, sheltering him, and he thought about the way her gears shifted, the smell of the engine when she was running hot, the sexy growl she hit at 70 miles an hour- the release came unexpectedly, startling him into a groan.

“You hit your head when you woke up there, son, or what?” came his father’s amused voice.

SHIT! “Shit,” he said out loud, and scrabbled to tuck himself away. Aw shit, his zipper was down – how was he gonna… He pushed the oil pan out the opposite side he usually did, and watched his father’s feet start to walk ‘round to look at what was in the pan. He grabbed the toolbox with his left, drawing it closer to him, hiding the sound of the zipper with the rattle. He popped the new oil filter in, and closed his girl up. As he emerged, blinking, into the sunlight, his father was leaning into the engine, probably checking her spark plugs. He glanced down – aw man, his shirt, there were drops of come where she’d dripped it back down onto – his cock twitched again, and he ran a hurried hand down his front, covering the white droplets with clean black oil from his hand. His dad glanced up at him.

“Anything left to do? She looks like you’ve run hot a couple times.”

Dean paused, had to look away and swallow before answering. “Couldn’t be helped.”

“Well, you got the oil changed, and the plugs and wires look good,” his father said gruffly. “Fill her back up, and go get cleaned up, supper’s nearly on the table. You’re probably hungry after all that effort,” he said. Dean went into the house. God. Did Dad know? He spent his shower trying to forget about it, and the sight of his favorite supper on the table, and Sam lounging all relaxed at the table put it out of his mind entirely.

John had himself a good laugh later, though. He hadn’t been sure out there by the car, but he was now. Because there was only one reason why Dean would have that much oil on the inside of his boxers.


End file.
